


Sugar, Butter, Flour

by SomewhereApart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, OQ Advent 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: Just a little Christmas fluff for the 2019 OQ Advent calendar.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Sugar, Butter, Flour

Regina wakes up alone on Christmas morning—something she considers a great offense, considering how cozy she’d been when she’d fallen asleep.

The night before had ended with warm skin and warmer kisses, a bit of stolen mistletoe from the front entry fastened to the headboard and serving as all the encouragement she and Robin had needed to make their own holiday cheer. They’d had the good sense to dress before falling asleep (the chances of being barged in on by children is exponentially higher on Christmas morning, after all), so she’d nodded off to the steady beat of his heart under her ear through a layer of flannel. 

She’s clad in that same flannel—a cozy green plaid she’d gotten for all four of them in an uncharacteristic moment of whimsy—and she’s glad for it now that she doesn’t have Robin’s body heat to keep her warm. 

His side of the bed is stone cold, the divot in his pillow all but gone. He’s been up for a while.

It might worry her if she couldn’t hear peals of Roland’s laughter coming from the kitchen. As it is, she’s just grateful to finally sleep in on Christmas morning. 

(Still, they better not have opened their presents from Santa without her.)

She hears a clatter, and more laughter, and drags herself out of bed to see what all the commotion is about. 

The late December air is chilly, even inside, so she wraps herself up in the plush royal purple robe Robin had gifted her with the night before, and slips her feet into a cozy pair of slippers to save her toes from the cold hardwood as she ventures downstairs.

She finds them in the kitchen. Her boys, all three of them, standing around the island. It’s covered with enough flour to look like an attempt at a winter wonderland, mixing bowls stacked together, a cracked egg oozing its contents over the surface next to an open carton of unbroken ones. There’s a bag of chocolate chips open and nearly empty, leaving a little chocolatey trail that Roland is presently thieving from, chip by chip. 

He’s the first one to spy her, glancing this way and that as he reaches to sneak another piece. His face splits into a grin, and she catches a glimpse of flour streaked across his cheek as he greets, “Regina!” 

Robin looks up (the green of that flannel brings out the blue of his eyes in a way that is truly delicious), his own smile spreading although it looks a bit sheepish. 

“Well, look who’s up,” he says warmly, just as Henry greets, _Hey, Mom._

“We’re making cookiesssss!” Roland exclaims with the energy of a boy who’s already had far too much sugar.

“So I see,” Regina grins, meeting eyes with Robin as he chuckles quietly.

“It was meant to be a surprise for you,” he tells her, reaching an arm out and then drawing her close as soon as she’s within range. 

“For me?” Regina questions, brow furrowing.

“Mm.” Robin presses a kiss to her forehead, his voice so affectionate she decides to overlook the dusting of flour he’s no-doubt transferred from his pajamas to hers. “You’ve done so much to make this a special Christmas; we thought we ought to do something for you in return.”

She melts, her middle going as gooey as the chocolate chips in the cookies she’s begun to smell baking in the oven. She hadn’t done all that much, really. Just the usual things. Cookies, and a home-cooked meal, and mulled cider, and a giant tree to decorate. Stockings for all of them. 

But it’s nice to be appreciated, even for the little things.

Regina presses up on her tiptoes to steal a smooch from Robin’s lips (ignoring the grimaces from both of their boys), then settles back onto her heels and teases, “Was getting stuck with the clean-up part of the surprise?”

“Absolutely not,” Robin swears. “You go pour yourself a cup of coffee and let us handle the rest.”

“Yeah, we’ll handle it!” Roland insists.

It’s only Henry that speaks up, tentatively reminding, “You do remember she has magic, right? Mom can clean all this up in, like, two seconds.”

Robin’s expression falls like he hadn’t thought of that, and while Regina knows it’s not like Henry to encourage her to do needless magic like this, it is absolutely like Henry to find any opportunity to shirk clean-up duties.

And it’s Christmas, so why not?

Regina wiggles her brows at Robin, throws Roland a wink, and then with a flick of her hand the kitchen island is clean as a whistle. No sign of flour, or drippy eggs, or spilled sugar. All she’s left behind is the bowl with what’s left of the cookie dough, the roll of parchment to line the baking sheet, and the chocolate chips—now piled into a festive Christmas mug. 

“Now, _that_ is magic,” Robin admires, his hand dropping from her waist and goosing her subtly as it falls.

She twitches at the contact, pressing her lips together and giving his chest a whack, but the boys don’t seem to have noticed. Henry is distracted unearthing another cookie sheet to prep, and Roland is busy trying to think of all the other things Regina could clean up with her magic. 

She goes to pour herself that coffee just as Robin scoops Roland up into his arms, tipping him upside down and making him shriek with laughter. It’s contagious; Henry starts to laugh too, and then Regina chuckles, shaking her head. 

It’s all so homey. So domestic. So wonderfully _happy_. 

Regina’s heart swells, growing three sizes in the space of a minute, her chest so full of affection for these boys, this man, that it almost suffocates her.

Cleaning up a bit of mess is nothing but a paltry parlor trick in the face of simple magic like that. 


End file.
